


How do I passive aggressively say fuck you in flower

by AlyaKtheDorkLord



Category: Original Work
Genre: Flower Language, My character b swears a lot, Transphobia, Tumblr Prompt, flower shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:42:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15583230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyaKtheDorkLord/pseuds/AlyaKtheDorkLord
Summary: I saw a text post that gave the prompt: person A is a flower shop worker, and person B comes in, slams twenty dollars on the counter, and says “how do I passive aggressively say fuck you in flower”I wrote this a little while ago, so I hope you enjoy!If anyone wants to use this, feel free!





	How do I passive aggressively say fuck you in flower

It’s a calm, quiet day in Flora’s Flowers, the plants watered and blooming, the sun streaming through the windows, the whole room smelling of roses and orchids. Outside, a few people walk by, a few stopping to look at the bright blooms but most hurrying on to their business elsewhere in the city.

I sigh happily, leaning against the counter. I love quiet sunny days like this, just watching the people go by. Sometimes I make up stories for what each one is doing today. That one goes to work in a secret government office, that one is on her way for pastries, another on his way to buy a wedding ring for the love of his life. Some of them may be a bit improbable, but that’s the joy of imagination, isn’t it? 

My coworkers always say I day dream to much. Oh well. None of them are here right now, as Garret is on break with his girlfriend, and Ludmila, our boss, is getting groceries. So right now, I’m all alone in the quiet store. 

I swivel around in my chair, acting like a little kid. Hey, I’m alone, what’s the point of being all uptight? Unfortunately the chair can only go so far, and neither can I before I get dizzy. So I stop and scoot over to my little cactus garden.

The cactus garden is a little hanging wire shelf in the window, about ten small ceramic pots filled with sand and miniature cacti and succulents. They’re easy to take care of, and look nice, so we make a bunch of them. Today is... oh, I need to water them today! 

I swivel back to the desk and pull the little watering can from below it, gently putting a few drops in each one. 

I turn my attention back to the window, and the people beyond it. That fancily dressed lady is off to- oh, never mind, she’s headed to that wine shop. For a party maybe? Hmm, what is that brown haired guy off to do? He’s running rather fast, and he looks kind of angry. Maybe he’s going to find someone who ripped him off, or he’s late to school? No, it’s a weekend. Hey, he’s coming over here...

The door slams open, the cheery bell crashing around and nearly making me jump off of the stool. Running guy storms up to the counter, fumbling with something in his jacket. Oh, god, he isn’t going to rob the store, is he? There was an incident down the street last week, Berry’s bakery I think. 

The guys fist slams against the countertop, and I let out an undignified squeak. He gasps for breath, seemingly having run for far longer than he had been in my line of sight. He looks up, still breathing heavily. 

“How do I passively aggressively say ‘fuck you’ in flower talk” he demands, face perfectly straight. 

I blink slowly, confused. “U-um, what?” Damn that stutter!

He takes a deep breath in, obviously trying (and failing) to calm down. 

“I need a bouquet that means ‘fuck you’ and I need it as soon as possible” he announces, waving his arms around like a madman. In the place where his hand was on the counter, I can see a slightly wrinkled twenty dollar bill. Oh. 

Wow that was terrifying. I’m just a poor college student in a flower shop, how the heck would I have responded to a freaking robbery? And- oh crap he’s staring at me. 

‘Fuck you’? Why does he need a bouquet that means ‘fuck you’? Why isn’t Ludmila here, she’s better at this stuff! And even if he isn’t going to rob me, he’s still pretty scary. Oh shoot, what do I do? Ludmila always says try your best to help, but I seriously am pulling a blank. 

“Ok-kay, um, there isn’t a flower that means that specifically” I tell him. He deflates slightly. “but for an overall feeling you would need... hang on...” my voice trails of into a mutter as i try to remember. The other seems to brighten up a bit at that remark anyway. “Geraniums means stupidity, so you’ll want those, right?”

He nods, still breathing heavily. I pull myself out from behind the counter, walking down the stands and looking at the flowers. I hear his foot steps behind me, as my eyes wander over the flowers. ‘Fuck you’, um...

“Foxglove means insincerity, and meadowsweet uselessness” I tell him, pointing them out. “And also...” don’t ask don’t ask don’t let the curiosity win, “why do you even need a bouquet that means... um... that?” 

Damn it. 

He glares at the flowers in front of him, and I’m almost worried they’ll burst into flames. Whoever’s this bouquet is going to (an ex? Coworker?) He is really annoyed at them. 

“My Grandma is being a piece of shit ‘bout my little bro, because he’s trans, and she wants him to use his birth name Rachel and wear dumb frilly dresses, and I want to punch her in her old wrinkled face. But Mom says ‘oh, that’s how she grew up, and you need to understand’ but fuck that bullshit. Anyway her birthday is coming up and Mom says buy her flowers but grandma knows flowers like the back of her hand so imma get her this giant bouquet of loathing that means ‘fuck you’ to shove in her fucking face.” 

He says this all very fast, without a breath, still glaring at the flowers. His hands clench into fists at his sides, knuckles turning white as he stares down the displays. 

“Oh my god” 

He winces, probably worried that I’ll be transphobic or something. 

“That witch! Hang on, when is her birthday?” I ask. 

The best big brother looks up, surprised. “Today. The hag is turning ninety six. I didn’t want the petals to die, the full force of my passive listening to mom and yet still pissing Grandma off needs to be evident” 

I nod decisively. “Okay, so we also need yellow carnations and orange lilies, because those mean ‘you have disappointed me’ and ‘hatred’” I turn back to the racks. “And this thing should be huge. It’s going to be very vibrant, also”

The best big brother smiles gratefully. “Hell yes” 

I pick up a few of each flower, carefully placing them in the plastic wrapper we use. “She better understand this” I inform him as I add another lily. “I will be very disappointed if this goes to someone who doesn’t get it” 

He nods, smirking at the fireball of flowers I have put together. The purple, orange, and yellow blooms are impossible to ignore, and for anyone who understands flower talk, a rather large insult. I pass the other the flowers, giving him his change for the twenty dollars. 

“Thanks for your help” He says, turning to leave. 

“Oh, wait!” I call after him, turning to the window. I grab one of the little cacti and push it towards him. 

“A gift, you can have it for free. Cacti mean endurance. Give it to your brother for me?” I ask lightly. He smiles gratefully. 

“Sure thing. Thanks again!” 

“No, thank you! I call after him as he leaves the shop, running down the street again. 

Well that was interesting. 

I wonder what his name was. 

I hope that terrible grandma understands that bouquet.


End file.
